Can't let go
by ffrackles
Summary: Mickey Milkovich had only ever let go of two things in his life. And he wasn't about to let go of one more thing he loved. - Ian/Mickey future fic, a one-shot for the time being. Slightly OOC. Rated M for cursing, and for future references.


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I've just become obsessed with the pair that is Ian and Mickey. Those two might just be the very death of me. And I need them to end happy. Not sure yet if this is a one-shot or a multi chapter thing. We'll see if you like it, and if I have the time to sit down and write some more. This literally took me ten minutes. Not even joking. Anyway, reviews make me happy.**

Mickey Milkovich had only ever let go of two things in his life. And both were because of, and for, Mandy Milkovich.

The first time was a few days after their mom died. A few weeks earlier, she had taken Mickey to a carnival, bought him a stuffed animal. He'd clung to it like a person drowning needed air after she was gone. But stupid Mandy wouldn't stop crying, kept the whole fucking house up at night. So he gave her the stupid already torn elephant. At least it made her stop crying at night.

Second time was after Terry went to jail. He had never been a good father, but at least he'd been home. Most of the times. Mickey's brothers were all old enough to take care of themselves, but no one seemed to care about the youngest Milkovich. So Mickey took it onto himself. Quit school, started doing what his family had always done.

Secretly, he really liked school. Took him out of the house for a few hours a day, and he was actually smart. Liked math. School made him feel like maybe, someday, he could get out of south-side and be someone. With a real job. A family that wasn't so fucked up.

But Mandy was his family, so he gave that up. Because truth be told, he loved the little shit. And, despite never actually showing it, taking care of her was his most important job. And no matter how badly he treated her at times, at least she fucking saw him. At least parts of him.

Which is why there was no doubt in his mind when she asked him to beat up a kid for him.

Ian _fucking_ Gallagher.

To this day, he still didn't know what exactly caused that first fuck. He was so far into the closet no one knew it even existed. He barely did himself. But damn, something about that redhead coming over, all brave and shit, asking for the gun back. Turned him on or something.

So years later, when the fuckhead told Mickey he was leaving for New York, Mickey argued with him. _How was he gonna get by. _He had money saved up. _What was he gonna do?_ Get a fucking job somewhere and find a cheap ass apartment. _What about his family?_ They'll be fine without him.

Of course firecroch had it all figured out. Probably had it planned out for years. It just wasn't something Ian had ever fucking mentioned to him, so of course it took Mickey by surprise. But he wasn't about to watch his redhead just leave, go live the life he wanted as a little kid, the life he had forgotten all about. Not without a fight. Not when Terry was back in jail, and the two had something good going on. Not when Ian was the only fucking thing that made Mickey feel anything and everything. Something he had always been too afraid of.

But then Ian told Mickey he wanted him to come. Pictured the future for them, living together in a cramped, rugged apartment somewhere. Not having to watch their backs all the fucking time. They could be together, for real. They could be _happy_.

Two days later they packed their shit into a car Mickey had stolen the day before, and started driving. And as they passed the_ "You're leaving Chicago" _sign, both Ian and Mickey laughed so hard tears sprung to their eyes. And Mickey did the gayest fucking thing he had ever fucking done. He reached over and grasped Ian's hand in his, clenching it so hard it felt like he would never let go.

And he wouldn't. Gallagher was the first thing he had loved other than Mandy, and no way in hell he was ever letting that go. No matter how much he always drove him to his boiling point. Because he could see it too. The future Ian had all painted out for them. He'd follow that asshole around the world if he asked him to. Even if it meant leaving all he had ever known behind.

Now, six months later, Mickey sat on the edge of their bed staring out the window and into the brick wall just inches away from it. Not exactly much of a view. But it was more than he had ever dared hoped for.

As he heard the door close shut, he flipped his cigarette on the floor, knowing it would piss Ian off when he found it later. He didn't care. He liked pissing his redhead off. Caused good make up sex. And damn if firecroch wasn't the best lay he'd ever had. And at the same time he was so much more than that. He was everything.

Lighting another cigarette, Mickey bounced his feet up and down as he thought about the phone call he got just an hour ago. When he saw Mandy was the called ID, he'd figured she'd just rant about what she needed to pack before moving out to New York and into their apartment. He figured he'd hear enough of her shit for the weeks it would take her to find something on her own, and wondering why the hell he had agreed to let her stay. So he thought about ignoring her call. But at the last tone, he picked up and heard the words he had both waited for and dreaded at the same time.

"He's gone, Terry's dead."

It meant he was finally free. And it scared the shit out of him. But it also made him happy, and he hated that. Following Ian to New York had set him free too, he knew that, but Terry dying was different. He never had to worry about him coming after them, beating Ian up. Maybe even killing him. Didn't have to worry about Terry ever hurting Ian in any way ever again. He'd done that enough already. Terry was the only person Mickey had ever been scared of in his entire life. So not having to be scared of him anymore scared him too. Because now he knew could finally let everything go and be truly fucking happy.

But Mickey knew that all good things had to come to an end, and just a few weeks ago Ian had told Mickey he'd enlisted. He'd leave in two weeks. Afghanistan or some other shit fucking country that could hurt Ian in the same ways his father could. Maybe in ways way worse. And he couldn't do anything to keep him safe.

Maybe these two weeks would be the last he ever had with the redheaded boy he loved. And it scared him senseless. So of course they had a huge ass fight about it. Biggest one they had ever had. Ian barely looked at him for days, and it killed him.

But he knew it's what Ian had always wanted. Joining the army is what he'd always talked about, ever since that first time. It's one of the reasons Mickey loved the asshole, so no matter how much he wanted not to, he had to let him go. Just this once. And hope like hell he'd come back to him.

Because Mickey saw the ways Ian's eyes would light up when talking about it. Mostly about coming home. It used to be about coming home to his family, prove to them that he was someone worth being proud of. Then it was about coming home to both his family, and Mickey. Even though he never said those exact words, but Mickey could feel it.

Now it was about coming home to the place they had created. The studio apartment just outside of Brooklyn, the apartment that had holes in the walls they had to cover with stupid paintings Ian had found somewhere. The apartment where the stove only worked half of the times, and the front door that needed extra locks because the original one didn't work. It was about coming home to _their_ apartment, _their_ life, it was about coming home to _him_. It was about coming home and making Mickey proud in ways Mickey knew he could never make Ian proud the way he wanted to.

So if it made Ian happy, Mickey would just have to find a way to live with being terrified for his life. And maybe having his annoying bitch of a sister around would help keep him distracted.

"Hey, Mick!" He head Ian call out but didn't respond, just took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He heard his footsteps come closer to the bedroom, and opened his eyes again just in time to see Ian's face right in front of him. The red hair his fingers fit so perfectly in, the freckles he had counted so many times and lost count of just as many, the green eyes filled with anger.

"You were supposed to meet me for lunch thirty minutes ago, why the hell didn't you come?"

The anger mixed with the worry and love in those green eyes is what anchored Mickey to reality. Always kinda had. And he knew he should explain to Ian that he had planned on actually going, he really had even though he didn't want to meet Ian's friends from work because even though Mickey had a job that was actually legal now, he was still a piece of shit, still came from the wrong kind of place, and as much as he tried, he couldn't just be nice to people because he was supposed to. But he had planned to come, for Ian. Had planned to at least try to be nice.

"You made me look like a fucking idiot, Mick. Those guys are starting to think I made you up, and fuck it, sometimes I think so too."

Mickey knew he wasn't perfect, and he never would be. And he sure as hell didn't deserve Ian Gallagher, but for some fucked up reason, Gallagher loved him. Saw through him, understood him for who he really was. This boy, who was nothing like him, but also the perfect match for him.

Staring at him, he knew Ian wanted an answer. And he would probably fight with him until he got one. And then they'd end up fucking against the wall. It's what they always did. It's what they would always do. Argue, fuck, laugh and then repeat. But it worked for them. And Mickey knew that the words wanting to leave his mouth couldn't be stopped no matter how hard he bit into his lip to keep them in. It wouldn't matter if he tasted blood on his tongue, those words would find a way out sooner or later.

And he knew Ian wouldn't disagree. Because he knew he wanted it too. He had mumbled it in his sleep between soft snores, even brought it up to Mickey once. Mickey had blown it off of course, no way in hell he was doing _that,_ he'd told him. But deep down, he wanted to, despite it being completely fucking gay.

So he didn't fight the words as they left his lips, because he knew he would never be able to give up the one thing that has made him feel alive.

"Wanna go get married and then fuck in an alley?"


End file.
